


Liberator

by antimonyandthyme



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11737299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimonyandthyme/pseuds/antimonyandthyme
Summary: Camus and Xander bring each other back.





	Liberator

Even amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Prince Xander stands out. He is the backbone of their enemy, their strategist and most powerful weapon all rolled into one. Camus glances about at his faltering comrades. Sonya’s cradling her tome almost defensively in front of her, but resolutely muttering spells that surround them protectively despite the burns adorning her arms. Takumi’s wielding his bow awkwardly, a rare sight for the Hosidan prince, which instantly points to a dislocated—or worse, broken, shoulder. He stands fiercely in front of an unconscious Olivia, guarding her from the wyverns swooping overhead. Camus’ own horse is whinnying in fright, barely skirting around the treacherous lightning the enemy mage sends down in waves.

It’s a crucial battle, especially since they’ll deal a major blow to Veronica’s forces if they can break Xander’s contract. But they’re losing. The soldier in him screams for him to persevere, but his comrades—they need to retreat. A lifetime ago, he would’ve been prepared to sacrifice them for a greater cause. Now, he can’t bear the thought of losing any of them.

“Fall back,” he orders Sonya. 

“And leave you?” she snaps, furious. “No.”

Camus exhales in frustration. They don’t have the time to argue. “You’re no match for Xander,” he states bluntly. “I can’t protect you and fight him. Get Takumi and Olivia out of here.”

Sonya opens her mouth to retort, but something in his gaze gives her pause. She sighs, defiant and weary and beautiful all at one. “Be careful,” she says softly. She tips her head toward Xander, who’s perched calmly on his horse watching their interaction with cold eyes. And then she turns and hurries toward the other two. 

His shoulder’s dip a fraction—his comrades are safe, _safe_ —before he faces Xander once again. Camus supposes it’s fitting that it boils down to the two of them. Xander’s reach, his build, his style in battle mirrors his so closely; it’s almost like he’s fighting his own shadow. 

And then Xander is charging toward him, and Gradivus sings when it meets Siegfried. 

 

He wakes with a jolt, hands scrambling for his weapon before cool hands push him back down. He’s in the healing bay, back at the castle. Priscilla’s staff glows a pale green above him. 

“You’re safe. Try not to move,” she soothes, smiling when Camus settles down obediently. “Your wounds are deep.”

Camus blinks, disoriented. Now that he’s awake, his body has no qualms informing him of all the damage he’s sustained. There isn’t a place he doesn’t ache. His torso has a nasty gash carved into it, closing sluggishly with Priscilla’s coaxing. He thinks his lance arm is broken. He doesn’t know how he got back to the castle in this shape. 

Priscilla must sense his confusion. “He brought you back,” she says quietly. 

“Who?” Camus returns, confused.

“Prince Xander.”

“What?” he says unintelligently. 

Priscilla tells him, while prodding him with her staff, that he broke Xander’s contract. Which makes no sense to him, because he must win to do that, right?

“Apparently, you did.”

Camus glances down at his torso wryly. “Apparently.”

She continues to explain how Xander had rode into the castle, how they had all panicked, thinking it was an attack by Embla, how instead Xander had cradled Camus carefully, desperation in his eyes, as he pleaded for a healer, before he collapsed himself. 

Camus swallows, too overwhelmed to speak. It’s a few moments before he can bring himself to ask, “Where is he?”

 

Against Priscilla’s strict instruction, Camus hobbles out of bed. Xander’s sleeping in the healing bay down the hall. He recognizes the healer watching over him as Elise. His sister. 

Gods, he feels awful. 

Almost as awful as how Elise must feel. Xander’s torso is swathed in bandages, already pinpricking with blood. Elise looks exhausted, but she wields her staff stubbornly, and Camus can see in the defiant set of her shoulders echoes of her brother on the battlefield. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. 

Elise jumps. “Sir Camus!” she exclaims. 

“Just Camus, please,” he mumbles. He doesn’t think he can handle Elise addressing him in such a way after what he did to her brother. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

Elise frowns. “You brought him here. You freed him.” She reaches forward, almost timidly, to caress Xander’s face. “Big brother would be grateful.”

Camus wonders if that was why Xander brought him back, as a repayment of a debt of sorts. He doesn’t understand why the Prince would’ve done something so risky otherwise. He settles down next to Elise with a groan. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m not leaving big brother,” Elise insists.

“You should rest.” 

“ _You_ should rest,” Elise retorts, waving her staff dangerously in the general vicinity of his injuries. Camus fights the urge to cower. He’s beginning to comprehend the intimidating reputation of the Nohr siblings. The little troubadour points to the empty bed beside Xander. “Get in.”

 

Their third meeting goes significantly better than their initial two, considering they’re no longer facing each other as enemies and Xander’s actually conscious this time. Elise is dancing about Xander’s legs, gestures animated and happy, while the Prince watches her with the softest of expressions. 

“Sir Camus!” Elise calls out excitedly.

Camus barely stops himself from ducking out of sight. “Just Camus, Princess Elise.”

Elise pouts. “Just Elise, then.”

Xander chuckles, and Camus snaps his gaze to him. There’s gratitude and warmth in his eyes, where in the battlefield Camus only saw violence. It’s funny how no words are needed. Camus feels the awkwardness melt away. He gives Xander a small nod. 

Xander dips his head in return, lips quirking up. 

Unsurprisingly, Kiran places Xander in his team. Sonya takes to him instantly, something about having a blonde Adonis in their team, and Camus almost questions her as to why she never said such things about him. Xander deals with her attention with more grace than Camus can ever hope to display, making him feel like a block of wood in comparison. Olivia is similarly charmed; Xander bows and takes her hand and is gentle and gallant, while she blushes but deigns to show him her latest dances. Takumi is prickly and distrustful at first, but Xander bides his time and keeps a respectful distance. After several skirmishes with Veronica's soldiers, in which Xander not only proves his skill but loyalty, Takumi’s recalcitrance dissipates. He stays up with Xander, poring over maps and books, and seeks his advice in combat. Camus sees them huddled together sometimes for hours on end, whether for a game of chess or a discussion in strategy. 

With Camus however, Xander is quiet. They sit together in the mess hall over a meal, and though they share few words, Camus leaves refreshed and comforted. There is understanding in their silences, an unexplainable bond that lifts the heavy cloak of loneliness off his shoulders. It’s in battle that they speak. Gradivus and Siegfred cry out, feral and free. Camus has never felt so bold, riding forth with such a force of nature next to him, with Sonya’s cunning, with Olivia’s devotion, with Takumi’s fortitude at his back. At times, even under the most dire of circumstances, Camus feels a grin tug at his face, and wonders at the effect the Nohrian prince has on him.

 

It’s in the World of Mystery that, as Kiran likes to put it, everything goes to shit. The terrain is disadvantageous to cavalry, while their opponents travel swiftly on pegasi. Takumi shoots arrow after arrow, but their numbers are overwhelming. They dive down toward the Hoshidan and hem him in. Sonya and Olivia are too far away, but even so, Camus sees their twin expressions of horror. 

He does the first thing that comes to mind. Throwing himself off his horse, he hurtles toward Takumi, intent on shielding the archer. Gradivus clashes with the axe of an enemy, and the impact shakes his bones. Camus grits his teeth; he is no stranger to fighting at a disadvantage, but he has Takumi to think of here, and the axes’ agile reach slip past his defences. He feels Sonya’s magic whirling in the air, striking at the enemy fliers, but it isn’t nearly enough to hold them all back. 

The downward swing of an axe nearly loosens his hold on Gradivus, and Camus lets out a pained gasp as his unprotected side sustains a heavy strike. Their opponents’ sense blood; they converge with a singular target. He struggles to fend them off but it’s useless, he can’t— 

A flash of black and red, and Camus doesn’t understand what he’s seeing until, until— 

Xander disappears. 

He screams.

 

“Camus, calm down,” Kiran pleads with him frantically. “You’re hurt badly, you have to see the healers immediately. He’ll return to us, he’ll be alright—”

But Camus pushes aside the summoner, his mind a singular focus. The blood dripping down his side barely registers. The wounds sustained from decimating the rest of the army are insignificant. He needs to get to the summoning stone. Will Xander be mortally injured? Will he be in pain? Will he return?

There’s a faint light emanating from the stone, making the dull grey gleam. And then slowly, the Nohrian prince materializes. Camus dashes forward. Xander’s unconscious, his breathing shallow, but the cruel gash that destroyed him in battle is no longer there. Camus gathers him into his arms, and only then, makes for the healing bay. 

Olivia is pale with worry, and Takumi’s knuckles are white around his bow. Sonya’s entire body sags when she sees them both, and she ushers them quickly in. Azama’s the healer on duty this time, and Camus thanks the heavens that it isn’t Elise. He doesn’t think he could face her. 

“I will take care of him,” the Hoshidan healer promises solemnly, and Camus can only nod stiffly in response, “but you have to see a healer yourself.”

Sonya tugs his arm insistently, and Camus lets himself be led away.

 

Xander’s fine, Olivia informs him, a little disoriented, a little shaken, as is normal for Heroes when they get recalled from death, but fine. Why don’t you visit him? 

Camus makes an excuse about having to rest.

He doesn’t feel up to seeing Xander at the moment. There’s a tumultuous rushing in his chest, an ache that settles deep. He thinks he could be angry. Guilty. Perhaps scared. Camus doesn’t like being scared.

Takumi appears in his room later in the night with a scowl. “He keeps asking if you’re alright. Why aren’t you there?”

“Tell him I’m fine,” Camus manages. 

“Tell him yourself,” Takumi retorts.

Camus puts off visiting for another two days before Xander decides to show up. He stands awkwardly at the door. “Good evening,” he says, watching Camus warily.

Camus hates this sudden formality. He hates the weariness in Xander’s posture. He hates when his comrades get hurt, and he hates that Xander had to experience death, no matter how impermanent, because of him. 

“You’re mad at me,” Xander observes tiredly.

“No,” Camus bites out. “Yes. Maybe.”

Xander frowns. “I did what I had to do.”

“You were reckless. Irresponsible.”

Anger mars Xander’s handsome features. “Protecting our comrades is part of what we do here in the Order, is it not?” Camus does not answer, and Xander’s eyes turn stormy. “Forgive me, I would’ve thought my efforts would be appreciated—”

“Why?” Camus whispers. “What is a mere knight to a prince? Why do you keep saving me?”

Xander’s stance softens. He hesitates, before making his way into the room, settling carefully beside Camus. “Liberator,” he says. “Captain. Friend. That is what you are to me. You’ve put your life on the line for me. I will do so for you as well.”

It’s a simple admission, and it makes it simple for Camus to lean in closer, press his lips lightly against Xander’s, whisper apology and relief and gratitude and promise. 

 

Sonya’s too observant for her own good, and her smirk is wicked when she glimpses them together. Takumi rolls his eyes and mutters something about their cavalry being far too slow, and Olivia giggles at their stupidly happy faces. Their motley crew continues to thrive, on and off the battlefield. Camus has to pause now and then to wonder how he’s ever fought without them at his side, and at times, it hurts to breathe when he considers the eventual dismantling of the Order when the war is over. But for now, Siegfried hums with barely contained power beside him, he catches the eye of Xander and grins, and it is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. For my sake, please pretend FEH allows teams of 5. ;)  
> 2\. Also, watch me pair Xander with the most random people in Heroes hurhur.


End file.
